#Causes of Infertility in Men | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juletheghoul · 8 months ago

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vita nova

a/n: So. This is a big one lol. It’s not the end of their story, it’s just a different chapter. I still welcome any and all requests for them, taking place before, and after this chapter. These two have become so important to me and a lot of you and I am so happy to delve into any aspect of their lives. (for the ritual, I borrowed heavily from one of my favourite shows but added my own little twists. Things I thought would add to the story.) This takes place directly after the last chapter and I’ve incorporated a few of the asks into it, hopefully you enjoy. Can’t wait to see what you all thought!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, body worship-Marcus gives his girl a nice massage, *FEELINGS* Huge shift in their relationship, grief, deals with loss (miscarriage), talks of infertility, ancient religious practices (physical examinations)- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 7.6k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His fingers reach out and slide across the apple of your cheek.

“I’d like to hear you speak my name.” It’s not an order, it’s a statement and for a moment you’re lost. “I can see the conflict on your face. This is not a test, there is no punishment, I would hear my name on your lips, it is something I desire greatly.” He sits back, waiting for your wits to catch up.

“I do not wish to cause offence, you are my Dominus, and I will obey but never have I been commanded to do this.” Your hands shake a little, and you know it is partly with trepidation, partly with a feeling that is too big, too impossible to contain.

He smiles, not unkindly and he persists, a fountain of patience.

“I am not commanding you, I am asking you.” He takes your hand in his, and presses it to his lips. When his eyes meet yours again there is something in them you don’t think you’ve ever seen, something that looks like devotion.

Although nude, although still feeling the spectre of him between your legs, never have you ever felt so naked, so exposed as you do under that look.

“Marcus…” it’s a whisper and he smiles, eyes focused on your mouth.

“Yes, I do like the sound of it in your voice, I would have you call me by my name.” He pulls you forward, guiding you to sit on his lap. “I would call you love, if you would let me.” He presses his lips to your neck, his hands a comforting sweep from your neck down to your hip.

It feels as though you’re in a dream. This cannot be the same Marcus you were sold to years ago. This cannot be the man that left to smother the rebellion, this man is someone else, someone softer, someone sentimental and it is hard to reconcile the person you’d come to know, and the creature that holds you close. The person who skims his nose across the base of your throat.

“I have thought a lot about what is truly important to me when the wound was fresh and death felt close enough to carry me off, and it is not glory. It is not the whims and wants of the Emperor, it is not the worship of the men under my command or the amount of coin I have earned by slicing through the battlefield." There is a fire in his eyes, burning with the words he speaks almost angrily.

"It is this. It is my home, and the comfort of your embrace. It is waking up of a night and feeling you holding onto me, seeking me out for warmth. It is the sound of your laughter when I make a jest, when you cry out in pleasure when I take you.” He frowns, sighing as he confesses something you had not known you’d been hoping and praying your whole life to hear.

“I do not wish to be your Dominus, I wish to be more, I wish for you to be more. I wish for you to be mine, truly mine as I am yours.”

“But I am yours Dom—“ he winces but you catch yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat at his words, “—Marcus. I am yours. Mind, body and soul, I belong to you.”

“I own you, as I own all of those who serve under the name of Acacius. I wish for you to be here with me because you desire it, not because you are beholden to me.” His eyes search yours for comprehension, just as yours search his for the truth in his words.

“You wish for me to love you, truly love you not just as a happy slave loves their master, but as a woman loves a man?” Your fingers twirl a curl near his neck, something to focus on so you don’t go mad with joy.

“Yes. Is this something I could hope for? Is this something you could feel for me? I have been known to be a man of few words, and I know of my reputation. I am well aware of my dark moods and of my brutality. On the battlefield I am all that and worse but that is not my true heart. I know that I am older as well, but I could be a good man to you-“ you press forward, cutting off his words with a kiss. That he would think you don’t already love him is absurd.

“Does this mean yes?” He presses his lips to yours again, softer, his arms holding you tighter still.

“Yes. I am sure that I am dreaming but if that is so then it is the best dream I have ever had and I never wish to wake. I care not that you are older, you are already a good man to me, better than any have been before. When you ask me to stay with you, to lay with you, to sleep beside you my heart swells, to think that you would feel for me even a shadow of what I feel for you is enough to sustain me for the rest of my years.” It’s more honesty than you’ve ever given and he drinks the words down like a man dying of thirst.

“Then you are free. I release you from my service. You are yourself, a free woman and I invite you, I beg you to stay here with me. To live in this house and share with me all that I have.” Your jaw drops and he smiles wide, gifting you with a rare glimpse of the dimple in his cheek.

“I have nothing to offer you Dom-Marcus.” You shake your head, annoyed at how difficult it is to drop the title and call him by his name.

“I have no dowry, no father to broker any kind of union-“

“I have no need of a dowry. I have more than enough coin to sustain this house, and anything you may need or want.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, his eyes lighting up with mirth and happiness.

“You really wish to have me here as more than a slave?” You run your fingers through his whiskers, smiling when he turns his face to press his lips to your palm.

“Yes, I wish to have you here with me, to share this life with me and to let me love you, let me be a good husband to you. Let me spoil you, my love.” He pushes you back so you both lay on his bed, tucking you in under his chin to hold you close.

The word husband, the word love makes your head feel as light as a feather. That you would go from a mere slave, to the wife of the General and favoured son of Rome is almost laughable. And so you do. You laugh, harder than you’ve ever laughed in your life. Your belly aches with the strength of it and it’s with a smile of his own that he inquires as to the source of your mirth.

“This must be a dream, I will wake up in a moment, and laugh about this. Only in a dream would you speak so openly about marrying me. Only in a dream would I swiftly rise from slave to the wife of the General of Rome.” You kiss his chest, “when I wake you will be my Dominus once more and I will just be your girl.” You smile at him, but he gives you a sad look.

“This is not a dream my love, and you will always be my girl, but not in the way you think. I will have the papers drawn up for your freedom in the morning, and we will discuss a wedding should you want one. If you wish to simply live our lives intertwined then I am happy to oblige you, although a formal marriage would make things easier.”

The smile lingers, but the levity of his words sinks in, he is serious.

“This is real then. You desire me as more than I am and I am truly free…?” You pull away, leaning on your elbow to watch his face. He nods, his hand rubbing at your shoulder, then your arm before it settles on the curve of your hip. You bite your lip, curious.

“If what you say is true, and I am indeed free, would you let me deny you? If I wished to leave on the morrow, and seek my fate outside this house, would I be permitted to do so?” You watch his face and he frowns, letting out a deep sigh.

“If you wished to leave at this very moment, I would send you wherever you wished to go, with a heavy heart, a full purse and tears in my eyes.”

“You truly mean this then, I am free to do as a please, and you truly love me.” You press closer, tucking yourself back under his chin and take in the comforting scent of him, cheeks aching with the strength of your smile.

“Yes my love, I truly mean this. Will you stay?” Hearing him call you his love releases a whole army of butterflies in your belly.

“Yes, I have no wish to be anywhere else. I have no wish to be with anyone but you.” You rise up, a thought striking you with a momentary fear. “But what will people think? You are the General and I am but a slave, you have scores of noble women vying for you, the ear of the Emperor and friends of proper birth. Not to mention the matches you’ve denied, Lavinia-” You spit out her name and he laughs a deep laugh, pulling you close once more.

“What people think is their business, not mine. I care not about them, or Lavinia, you have nothing to worry about, it is you I want. No one else.” He strokes at your back again, lifting your knee to drape around his hip.

“I have my hands full with you as it is, I must be mindful of my love's greed for me, hm? How am I to give any of my attention to anyone else when you seek to keep me for yourself? Did we not discuss this before my love? Don’t I belong to you?” He shifts, and settles between your legs and all at once the craving for him hits you like a boulder.

“Yes, this is true, you do belong to me.” You pull his lips to yours, channelling all of your devotion and love into the kiss, your body responds to him quickly, as does his. His cock hardens against your belly and it’s with a moan that he adjusts himself and slips inside the mess he’d already made not moments before the conversation had began.

“This little cunt is the only one I want, the only one that makes me harder than stone and the only one fit for the gift of my seed.” He raises one knee for leverage but keeps his pace slow and steady.

“I only want you, Marcus-” His name feels so forbidden in your mouth, but the look on his face at the sound of it urges you to moan it. His movements are languid, he is in no hurry to bring about his end and you savour the feel of him deep inside, the sound of your name, your true name in your ear, the feel of his hands clutching at you as though you’ll float away.

“Gods above, the power you have over me, woman.” He burrows his face into the crook of your neck, his thrusts turning into a slow grind and the pressure against your clit is just right, just enough to stoke the already raging fire steadily building in your core.

“I’m already so close Marcus, I’m so close–” Your fingers clutched at him, and his steady, unabashed moans in your ear only push you closer and closer to your flutters.

“Later, I will use my mouth again, would you like that?” He bites at your ear and you nod frantically, whispering a repeated chant of yes, eyes closed tight. “Soak me, I want to feel this little cunt gushing on my cock and in my mouth-” He reaches down and slips his hand between you, swirling around the sensitive button and shoving you into your peak with a deep groan.

He shoves himself in deep enough to hurt a little and you feel the spurt of him filling you again. With a hiss, he rolls his hips still, pushing past the point of discomfort to watch his seed spill out around himself.

Later, when the house is silent and you are curled up beside him swimming in the euphoria of his confession, another thought occurs to you. One that dumps an entire basin of ice cold water onto your warmth.

“Marcus, may I ask you something?” His breath is steady, and for a moment you think he might be asleep, but his hand moves from its place on your leg, stroking softly as he mumbles a sleepy hmm?

“What of children?” You drew patterns onto his chest, a nervous gesture because this was something you’ve never discussed with anyone.

“What of them?” His breath tickles at the crown of your head.

“I—I do not think I can carry them. If we were to marry, you would have none to carry on your name.” This will be the true ending of the dream you think, he will rethink his madness and take back the freedom he’s given you. He will take back his declarations and marry another. The servitude you can handle. You’d enjoyed your life here. The love, the affection however, that you cannot handle being stripped of.

“Why do you say this?” His thumb sweeps across your skin, soothing.

“I have lain with others before, you yourself have filled me more times than I can count and it has never taken root, despite my blood coming every moon’s turn.” You’re thankful for the darkness then, the idea that he might be displeased with you over something you could not change would break your heart in two.

“Do you want children?” There is no anger, no disappointment in his voice, and for that you are grateful. It coaxes you to be completely honest.

“I haven’t given the matter much thought. In other houses where I served I took measures to never be with child for fear that it would be taken away from me, to be sold off while I remained. I feared for the mood of whichever Dominus I served, some were married and I couldn’t know how the Domina would react to a child being of her husband by a slave. I felt blessed that it never came to that.” You took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. He listens, his breath even and calm, his heart a steady thump under your ear.

“Then when I came into your service and we began our trysts, I was less prudent about my measures. I thought surely it would happen, with how often you gave me your gift. But the Gods have seen it fit to deny me the option. Being a slave, I thought it best.” He strokes at your leg draped across his middle.

“You have not answered the question my love.” His tone is gentle, but firm. “Do you want children?”

“I do not know, but if I am correct and cannot give them to you, will you still want me to share this life with you?” It is a miracle your voice does not break asking the question. a few heartbeats pass, and your own pulse races, hopeful, and terrified.

“I want you regardless of any children you can or cannot carry. Being a soldier means playing a game of chance with death. I have been truly blessed, and have not fallen in battle and yet I think it would have been harder for me to be the man I had to be if I had a child pulling at my thoughts. I am old enough to have come to terms with the truth that I might not ever be a father, and I have made my peace with it.” His hand slides up the curves of your body, feeling it’s way across the map of your skin, a map he has memorized and lands on your chin, tilting it towards him to find your lips in the dark. It is a soothing press and it does much to calm the melancholy in your heart.

“This does not change my love for you. This does not make me reconsider or rescind anything I have offered. If you find that you do want children after all we will deal with the matter then. Whether we have to find a medicus to advise, or a servant of the Gods to guide us, or make sacrifices–whatever the price, I will pay. Does this calm you?” He presses kisses to your cheeks, his lips wet with the silent tears that streak down your face.

“Yes Marcus, yes.” You press your face into the crook of his neck and weep, letting go of the last vestiges of fear that had clung to you, before the great mouth of sleep opens up and swallows you whole.

Marcus was never one to sit idle. His word was his bond and the next morning found you asleep in his bed, well past the hour you’d been expected to rise and go about your duties on a normal day.

With a slight panic in your chest, you move quickly to find and tend to him, almost knocking over a tray filled with fruits and bread, soft eggs and freshwater. The panic swells, someone else had tended to him and he had not eaten. Flashes of his declarations fill your mind but it seemed like a dream, some wine-fueled madness and without his face there to greet you it is hard to feel like any of it was actually real.

You find him in his study, brow furrowed and buried in a stack of parchment. When his eyes raise and find you, they crinkle with happiness.

“I expected you to sleep a little longer, I kept you up.” He smiles, quill forgotten and it’s with a slight trepidation that you step forward, unsure how to refer to him but he is quick to see the turmoil on your face. “Did you eat? I had food brought to you–I would have broken my fast with you but I wanted to start the paperwork for your freedom.”

“It wasn’t a dream then, it really happened?” He frowns for a moment, almost hurt but he lets out a sigh and beckons you closer.

“Apologies D–Marcus–” You stand between his legs, hands on his shoulders and he shakes his head to forestall your apology.

“You have nothing to apologize to me for. I can understand that it is difficult for you to suddenly stop feeling the way you have felt in this house, but I need you to know that you no longer serve me. You are equal to me in all things. This parchment–” He taps at the one closest to him before pulling you to sit across his lap, “-proclaims it. I feel it here–” He brings your hand to his heart, the steady thump of it pressing at your palm.

His eyes search yours, a vulnerability you had only ever seen in them during the worst of his injury shines back at you.

“I would implore you to remember it, feel it, know it here.” His hand presses against your chest, your slightly wilder, racing heart jumping against his hand.

“Yes Marcus, I will remember it.” His lips press to yours, lingering, tasting, trapping your bottom lip in an unhurried but wholly reassuring kiss.

One of the other slaves comes in, interrupting your embrace.

“Apologies Dominus, Domina–I will come back.”

“No need, what is it?” He smiles at the look of shock on your face, but holds you tight to him.

“The food is yet untouched, shall I dispose of it?” The shock at the new title freezes you in place. The implication that he had already informed the house of his decision to free you, of the new order of things only cements the idea that he is truthful in his declarations. The slave is another woman, older than you and it feels almost wrong to have her refer to you this way.

“Would you share the meal with me, my love?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, asking instead of commanding, and it takes a moment for your wits to catch up. You nod, unable to find your voice.

“Bring it here, we will break our fast while I finish my work.” He sends her off with a nod and you sit, silent still. “You will adjust.” His voice is soft, understanding and you sigh.

“Will I? Seems so strange, just yesterday I was on the other side. Do not misunderstand me, I have never felt joy like this in all my life. I am full to the brim with love for you, but freedom is a foreign concept to me. I will need time.” Your fingers thread through his soft curls, mind racing at how quickly things have changed for you.

“It is a big change, but you have all of the time you require. Once we have broken our fast, we will go out and find some more appropriate clothing for you to wear.” Your eyes widen again and he laughs, not unkindly. “My love, you cannot wear these tunics anymore, much as I love how easy it is to undress you, they are not for the lady of the house to wear. From now on you will dress as a proper Roman woman, a wife and the lady of this house, your house.” He smiles and you let out a breathy laugh, the insanity making you dizzy.

“Gods above. This is madness.” You laugh, the absurdity of it all filling the entirety of your body, until the door opens again and the food is placed in front of you.

“Dominus, Domina, if that is all?”

“That is all, you may tend to your other duties.” He dismisses her, and together you eat.

The clothing is hard to get accustomed to, surprisingly enough. It is of the highest quality, of that you can be sure but it is so much heavier than your tunics, the utilitarian square of cloth was practical and comfortable. It was made for the working people, to be unencumbered while you fulfilled your duties.

You shift, feeling slightly awkward as you hold the fine fabric to your body.

“How do you feel, my love?” He smiles from his place on his chair, watching with an amused smile as you fidget in your new robes.

“The fabric is… very fine.” You turn to face him, holding the smile to your face despite your discomfort. He laughs, not unkindly.

“That is not what I asked you, how do you feel in them?” He rises and closes the distance between you, his big hands landing soft upon your shoulders. You sigh, instantly calmed by his touch.

“I do not know how I feel. It is perhaps the finest thing I have ever worn but how am I to move? How am I to…” Your voice trails off, frowning at his patient expression.

“How are you to fulfil your duties? You have no duties, except sharing the running of this house with me. I know, it is a lot to adjust to but you will, I promise you.” His lips press to your forehead, and you nod.

The news of his union spread throughout Rome like a wildfire.

Gifts arrive, seemingly from every corner of the empire. Baskets overflowing with fruit, wine, fine cloth, dates and figs and flowers of every colour. Jars of honey, beautiful pottery, and a whole stack of letters.

Part of you fret over how people truly saw things, beneath the veil of courtesy, but as the months go on and the reception to your union to Marcus is mostly accepted with good grace, it is easier to fall into your new role; your new life. Marcus is true to his word, the whispers, the looks of others as you step out together are nothing to him. He pays no one any mind. No one but you.

Sitting beside him, having his big hand dwarf yours as you listen to him make conversation with all manner of proper Roman citizens is strange to be sure, his reassuring touch though, his kind eyes make it bearable, make it almost normal to be amongst such elevated company. The most difficult thing to get accustomed to is being served.

Your eyes always drift to whoever is pouring for you, or serving the food you eat, begging them not to resent you for your elevated status. He squeezes your hand then, guiding you softly back to him and away from the worry.

- Months pass -

The women tut at you being in the kitchen, again. You shine your brightest smile while skirting around them, piling a small plate high with figs and honeycomb.

“Domina, I beg of you, let us tend to you!” A rather matronly woman who prepared meals and ran the kitchen sighs, defeated yet hopeful.

“Apologies, I could not wait and since I already know my way around—“

“Do not apologize! This is your husband's house, your house! Let us do what we do, go on and tend to him.” She gently, but firmly shoos you out of the kitchen, a smile on her face despite her exhaustion of your antics.

You smile around a bite of fig, the craving for them so strong that you’d found yourself in the kitchen before your own attendant could catch up with you. She follows you, no doubt exasperated until you dismiss her. Your relationship with Marcus has progressed naturally, ordering people around however, still did not come easy.

“Those look delicious.” He smiles, finding you as he comes out of his study.

“They are the best this season I think, I came to share them with you.” You offer a smothered fig to him, feeding him from your own hand and he accepts it happily. Your body comes to life when he licks the honey from your fingers.

“I think you are right.” He takes another, smaller one from your plate and eats it whole, “I must procure more, you have been really favouring them of late.” He presses a sticky kiss to your mouth, guiding you through your halls to sit in the breezy peristyle.

“I have, more than any other time. I want for nothing else in truth. Nothing else is sitting right at the moment.” You laugh, smiling around another sweet mouthful.

“I can think of something else, something I would love to cover in honey and devour.” He presses soft kisses to your neck, hand sliding down your arm before palming at your breast through your robes. You wince at his slight grip, and he moves away, frowning.

“Did I hurt you my love?” He searches your expression, worried his strength and desire for you had gotten the better of him.

“No no, I am just a little sore. I think my blood may be upon me, it is a little late.” You kiss his cheek, but his eyebrows raise. For a moment, he is quiet, staring at you and then the plate of figs.

“How late?” His hand drifts lower, landing on your belly and for a moment something inside you clicks, eyes widening in stunned surprise.

“Oh!” You stare down, feeling the way he held you and sudden hot tears spring to your eyes. Your hand presses against his and something huge, something you had not known you held inside bubbles up. “Gods, I do not know!” An almost maniacal laughter escapes through the tears and still, he holds you.

“I will call for a medicus, we should know for sure but aside from that, how do you feel?” He holds you close, big hand pressed to your womb while the other rubs soothingly at your back.

“I have no words! I am shocked, and overwhelmed. In truth I do not know, this could be nothing but a little lateness I know, but the cravings have been so strong, the soreness, my eating habits, the desire for you—“ he laughs, good natured.

“Yes, you have been insatiable of late, much to my delight.” He presses his lips to your temple. “This is something unexpected, but welcome. I am beyond joyful to think you might carry our child even now.” He smiles, his eyes shining with truth.

“I confess I am happy too, I did not think it possible, perhaps the Gods have blessed us, Marcus.” You all but tackle him in a hug, figs forgotten in the warmth of his embrace.

“I pray it is so.” You whisper into his ear, fear that you may be wrong tinging the edges of your words.

“As do I, but if we are wrong, there is nothing wrong with it just being the two of us.” He pulls away, his hand cupping your cheek to look you in the eye.

“Hear me now my love, nothing will change if we are wrong.” You nod, praying deep in your heart that you aren’t.

The medicus did his examination, and jubilation bloomed throughout the house. At long last, his seed had taken root.

Never had you seen him so happy, never had you seen him shed a tear and yet he does. He held you as tightly as he could, without causing you pain and cried his joy into your skin. You both shed happy tears, holding each other and basking in the glow of knowing that soon, a child would be born of your love.

It was still early, and the medicus provided Marcus with a list of precautions, instructions on how to prepare your body for what was to come. He recommended rest, and solutions for the nausea that might afflict you. He gave Marcus oils to rub on your belly as it swelled and suggested foods that were suitable and healthy. He took them seriously, and did as he was told.

The joy was not to last though.

The Gods had not blessed you, and your child bled out of you not a week later.

Marcus did not show it, but you could feel his devastation. The pain in his eyes, to see your lost, heartbroken expression was enough to rival your own. He held fast however, unwavering in his love, solid and stoic while you fell apart in your shared bed. The only soundtrack being your soft cries, and his gentle reassurances.

Those were the darkest days in your life, the depths of your despair at the grief such a contrast to the joy of carrying his child, the fruit of your union being so unfairly ripped away had left a mark on the both of you.

It also brought you closer together.

Months passed, and then an entire year, and while exceedingly happy in your union, the loss had awoken a want that you hadn’t felt before. The desire to carry a baby, to see a beautiful child with his eyes, or his hands. To see the both of you on their face, and know that there would never be a child so loved.

The silver in his hair glints in the candlelight as he splashes water on his face, already undressed and prepped for bed. The strength in his arms, the breadth of him, the smooth golden skin you were free to touch and caress taunting you as you lay in your shared bed. Your eyes track errant droplets of water as they slide down the planes of his chest, much like your tongue had done on more than one occasion.

“Marcus.”

“Yes my love.” He wipes at his face, blowing out the candles before slipping in beside you.

“I want us to try to have a child.” Your hands slid across the soft skin of his belly, sliding up to trace the map drawn out by the water. “I know we will need help, but I want to try.”

For a moment he is quiet, pensive and the trauma of what happened fills the space between you, until he pulls you in and presses his lips to your temple.

“I will find someone to guide us. I will do everything in my power to give you what you desire but I must know that you will be content, should the Gods choose to deny us once more.” His tone is gentle, yet firm. You could see it then, the misery of not accepting the fact that maybe children just were not in your future, it was not fair to either of you to dwell if it did not happen.

“If the Gods deny us, I will drop the matter. I do not wish for us to suffer, not with how happy you make me.” You tuck your head under his chin, and he holds you tighter still, all of him such a comfort as you have ever known.

“I pray they reconsider, and that we are successful, but if they do not and for the rest of our days it is just you and I then I am beyond happy. You are all I need.” His lips find yours in the dark, and despite the nerves fraying at the thought of failure, you smile into the kiss.

He wouldn’t tell you how much it cost him to summon the priestess. All he did was smile, wave his hands and say never you mind, no matter how many times you asked him. It had to be considerable, judging by the way her dark halo of hair is adorned in what looks like a crown, by the way her face is painted in gold, her robes dripping in jewels and glass beads.

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip as she arranges her various bottles and statues of the Gods she served across your table, her attendant placing different bundles of herbs and dried powders within her reach, grinding away at a fine powder in preparation. Marcus sits next to you, his hand in yours as you wait with baited breath.

She turns to you fully then, coming closer to inspect you. Wordlessly she take your hands within hers, and studies your palms. Next she take Marcus’ hands, and studies the lines she sees there as well.

“How often do you engage in intercourse?” Her voice is deeper than you thought it would be, soothing and confident.

“Often. Many times a week.” Marcus answers for you, a furrow of concentration on his brow.

“And seed has never taken root?” Your gaze follows hers to the acolyte at the table, a nod is exchanged and a pinch of something is added to a bowl, followed by a dark liquid.

“Once.” It comes out as a croak but you push through, “but the baby was lost soon after.” His hand squeezes yours, reassuring.

“Have you been with other men?” She gives a sidelong glance at Marcus, unsure whether you will answer truthfully.

“Yes, before our union. It never resulted in anything.”

“Then it is the womb we must tend to.” She nods again, a command you cannot parse and more elements are added to the bowl. “We must ask the Gods to reconsider the gift they’ve withheld.” She adds another pinch of something to the bowl while the acolyte moves about the room.

“Remove your underthings, and lay back. I must inspect the physical form to make sure your body is suitable for the carrying of a child.” She gestures, and you do as she says. Shimmying out of your bottom layers before laying on the chaise, Marcus shifts so that your head rests on his lap. Your heart races as she approaches, spreading your thighs with warm hands.

Your eyes find his, and his hand holds yours tightly as she does her inspection, uncomfortable and a little awkward, but painless.

“The vessel is suitable, we will pray Juno accepts our plea.” She dips her hands into a fresh basin of water to cleanse before bringing the bowl to you. A dark, murky liquid swirls within it, smelling of wine and earth, summer rains and overripe fruits.

“Drink.” She nods, and you do as she says. The taste is slightly bitter, slightly acidic but you swallow every last drop.

“I pray that Juno has blessed you. You must copulate within the hour, but the body must be honoured.” She speaks directly to Marcus now.

“This is a ritual, you must worship her, as though she is the goddess herself. I will leave anointing oils and a candle with the flame of life. The seed must be in place before the flame goes out.” She takes a candle from her attendant, the shape of it a bit of a shock when it’s placed in your hand. It’s the shape of a man’s cock, smaller than Marcus but impressive nonetheless.

“We will leave you to it. Use the oils on her skin, on your hands, on every part of you that meets with every part of her...” She raises her eyebrows, saying what she means without being vulgar.

“Gratitude.” He nods as she gathers her things quickly, leaving you with your heart in your throat, and a flutter in your belly.

The sun is low in the sky when he guides you to your bed. The candle burns as he gently strips you of your robes, his hands careful, purposeful. A shiver runs through you, crawling down the line of your spine when he gets you down to your skin, naked as the day you were born in the soft golden light. Your hands move to undress him, but he circumvents you, pressing your hands to his lips in quiet denial.

“You, my love, are to be worshipped. I will do the work.” Love swells inside you for him, just like the arousal flows syrupy thick throughout your limbs.

Wordlessly he leads you to the bed, arranging you comfortably on your front as he straddles your thighs. The oil is neither hot, nor cold when it hits your lower back. His hands though, they are warm and solid, so big they span wide enough to cover a large swathe of your back at once. You melt into the bed as his hands work the oil in, sweeping from your lower back up to work the knots out of your shoulders, pulling involuntary moans with each pass.

He stiffens against the swell of your ass, and his hands move towards it as he does. He massages the globes of your backside, his big hands spreading you open for his gaze and it only rockets the arousal higher and higher, your slick pooling at the mouth of your cunt as the oil slips down towards it with every pass. His lips press to your shoulder, as his cock, hot and hard slips along your skin.

“Turn for me, on your back my love.”

It’s so hard to move from your place, your body feels like it’s become part of the bed. For a moment, the urge to ask him to take you just like this fills your mouth, but you ignore it and comply. The dying sunlight adorns him in gold and it pulls a smile from your lips, his beauty, his strength, his love shine brighter than the sun itself.

More oil pours down from the bottle in his hand, pooling in the well of your belly button before he dips in and spreads it across your skin. His eyes focus on his hands, working the oil in soothing circles at your womb before moving up and spreading the warm slip of it over your breasts.

He focuses there a while, kneading at the pliant flesh, letting it spill between his big fingers, flicking and circling your nipples until they stiffen, hard as pebbles. Your heart races as he pinches and pulls at the peaks of your breasts, the soft moans and liquid arousal slipping out more and more as he continues his thorough worship.

He moves down, opening your thighs and draping them over his own where they press up against you. He slips between your spread legs, fitting himself in the cradle of your hips. His cock is so heavy it barely bobs, resting hotly on your soaked cunt. His hands slip down your thighs, more oil drips from his fingers onto your skin. From your knees up to where you need him most.

“Marcus, please-” You whine, so aroused, so wet the ache of it hurts. He tuts softly, a playful, lust blown smile on lips as he cups your cunt with one big hand. “I need you, I need you inside me.” You pout, tilting your hips up into his hand. He lets you, grinding his palm against your core for a moment before he pulls away and then he pours the oil on himself from high on his chest.

It’s like he’s casting a spell, the oil drips down the golden expanse of it towards the dark patch of hair at the base of his cock.

He rubs the oil across his chest, down over the soft belly and finally lower still, stroking at his cock with ease as he readies himself to love you. He is a weapon, oiled and ready to rut so like the gladiators you’ve seen in the arena, shining and powerful as they prepare to fight for their lives.

There will be no fight here though, only the wet, open invitation of your cunt as you lift and spread your legs wider, resting your feet on his thighs to make it easier for him, tempt him into finally giving you what you so desperately want; no, need.

More oil drips onto where you gape for him, you bite your lip, eyes flicking towards the candle. Already it had burned half way.

The slip of his cock against your cunt feels like a blessing from the Gods, and when he slides inside to the hilt, it’s like a homecoming. It is the sight of him triumphant after a battle, it is the early mornings when you rise before him and bask in the sound of his deep, even breaths. It is the feeling of his lips on your shoulder at night, it is the sound of your name in his mouth and devotion in his eyes.

His big hands hold onto the meat of your hips with a slippery grip as he drives himself forward, filling you just like you want him to. His eyes flit from where he spears into you, up to the way your breasts bounce with every heavy thrust. Never have you felt so beautiful, with the oil shining on your skin, with his hands on you, with his cock deep inside, with the taste of your climax on the tip of your tongue.

He moves his hand down as if to cup your cunt once more but his fingers trace the lips of your sex to feel you stretched around the girth of him. Your mind buzzes like the wings of a bee to feel how he touches you, fingertips gliding against your swollen little clit, driving you to madness with lust and love for him.

You need him closer.

You beckon to him with open arms and he falls on you like he’s been knocked down. His mouth claims yours in a messy, vulgar kiss.

“Fill me Marcus, love me, make me yours.” Your nails curl into his waves, legs gliding around his waist to lock above his backside. Warm, slick skin slipping against warm, slick skin.

“You are mine my love, all mine, and everything I am is yours, all fucking yours—“ he groans, thumb swirling at your clit, around and around and around until you burst like a ripe berry under him. With an obscene moan and a wet squelch, you take him down into the depths of pleasure with you.

He swells, hard as steel before pulsing spurt after spurt inside you, filling you to the brim.

He does not move, and neither do you.

His weight does not bother you, and when he tries to spare you from the heft of him you only dig in your heels.

“I do not wish to smother you, I am quite bigger-“

“I like it, stay.” You hold on tighter, relishing his huff of laughter before he indulges you. In the almost holy afterglow, nothing could be more important than to be surrounded by him, filled by him. To have his body covering yours, his softening cock inside, his taste in your mouth and his seed deep in your womb.

“I pray that this has worked. That we have honoured the Gods and that they bless us.” He shifts slightly, only enough to look you in the eye. “But if they have not…nothing has changed. I would still be the happiest man in all of Rome, in all the world to share this life with you. Just you.” His words are a warm fan across your face, a warm bath for your heart, a soothing remedy for a nervous belly and you drink them down as such.

The candle is forgotten, the priestess a distant memory, all that matters is him.

You cannot trust your voice, and so you nod. With watery eyes and a trembling smile. You nod.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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mind-intheclouds342 · 8 months ago

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Do it for them - Co-captain x Curly

Previous - Part 7 - Next

Warning: Abortion mention.

You were watching the ultrasound you were doing on Anya, and you ran your hand over your face upon seeing the fetus.

"When"

Anya: "...I found out just before the crash..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You turned to look at Curly on the stretcher and then saw Anya, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anya: "For a moment I thought that... you wouldn't do anything for me either... and then, with all the responsibility you had on your shoulders... I didn't want to give you more problems."

"Why did you think I wasn't going to help you?"

Anya: "...You were always on the captain's side..."

"Well, when he had reasonable decisions, of course I agreed! Ugh... I don't want to talk about this now, let's focus on this now... How many weeks approximately?"

Anya: "...14 weeks..."

"Great, you're still on time. I know I ordered misoprostol, it must be somewhere."

Anya: "What's that?"

"It would help you to abort"

Anya: "How did you manage to get them to add that?"

"Well, I lied saying that some of the crew had gastric ulcers due to the consumption of aspirin to treat the inflammation caused by radiation when they had to go on walks outside the ship... And I sent Curly to ask for it so they didn't ask questions."

You mentioned searching through the cabinets for that medication until you found the tablet and handed it to her.

"I warn you that it's going to be hell, it's completely your decision, and I'll be with you to help you with all this."

You said, holding the pills while she watched you, slowly taking the box.

Anya: "How do you know?"

You fell silent and your eyes quickly moved to give Curly a glance, and then back to Anya, who understood immediately.

"Those are the side effects mentioned in the content if you take them when you are pregnant."

You told him right away and then sat down sighing.

Anya: "You look tired... Shall we grab a drink?"

You knew very well why he was saying that now, but you nodded to leave that place, not without first greeting your husband, letting him know you would be back soon.

Anya: "How was that?"

"I had gotten pregnant a few years ago, and we were about to make a new delivery, before that I asked Curly for a new load of medications, I was going to finish it myself on the ship."

Anya: "Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you do it in a safe way?"

"They keep an eye on everything you do, and they judge you. I wouldn't have gotten this job back, they would have done thousands of physical and mental tests to tell me I wasn't qualified to be co-captain... And I didn't want Curly to find out either."

You shrugged and took a seat while you prepared what was like hot chocolate, placing the powder in some cups and pouring water over them.

Anya: "Didn't he suspect anything?"

"I knew how to hide it, at that time there were only men on the ship, I lied saying it was my period, no one cared enough to ask more questions... Although Curly was very worried, he couldn't neglect his work that much either."

Anya: "...How was it? I want to know exactly what I'm going to face."

"...Hemorrhages, pelvic pain, depression, infections.... infertility"

You looked at the cup in your hands while saying this last part, taking a sip of its contents.

Anya: "...There aren't too many painkillers left in the nursery... Not for the three of us... Not for all this time we have to wait-"

She pressed her lips together as she placed her hand on her belly and tightened her uniform.

"Oh right, I haven't told you yet, the ship is heading to a Pony Express station, there we can ask for a rescue, we'll arrive in two more months."

Anya: "Even so, there aren't enough."

"I've already endured hell, I can do it again, don't worry about my dose."

Anya: "But-"

"Think about yourself! Please! Stop thinking about others!"

You slammed the cup against the table, causing a bit of the liquid to spill.

"It's your decision... Just...Decide... For you, not for others."

Anya: "Captain..."

You lifted your head upon hearing her say that, and you could see a small smile on her lips.

Anya: "Thank you"

#mouthwash #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing x reader #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #captain curly x reader #mouthwashing curly #do it for them mouthwashing

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pbandnoj · 7 months ago

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The JjK men reacting to finding out you’re infertile. This was honestly a self-indulgent fic idea but then it won on the poll I put out and honestly I was kinda surprised people were interested! Yall picked the only fic I didn’t have finished but I do now so here it is! If you’d like a part 2 let me know! +what characters!

Toji

You didn’t tell him until years into the relationship. Sure maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing but oh well things happened and you couldn’t change the past. And it took so long for Toji to trust you… that you just didn’t want to add another thing on top of it to deal with. I mean it took him almost a year for him to introduce you to his kids. It took him that long just to feel serious about your relationship.

And it’s not like he asked either, or used a condom. Cmon, we all know his history with women and he just kinda presumed you were on the pill, or that he’d deal with the consequences after the fact. He had two kids, this wasn’t his first time around the block. And even after he got serious with you he never brought up wanting to have another. His hands were full, and besides he wasn’t very well off. I mean you guys made it work, but that was just with the 4 of you, who knows what adding another would do.

So the conversation didn’t happen until probably 5… maybe 6 years in. Where you both had pretty much decided that you were stuck with each other. That if you lost each other at this point in life there would be no reason to restart the process of finding someone new all over again. He trusted you, and god that meant a lot coming from a man like Toji, his goal was to protect his kids and now you along with them.

Laying on the couch one night, one kid off at a sleepover the other supposed to be returning home soon. You guys trusted them… maybe a lil too much. Head resting on his chest, listening to the way his heart pounded, like it wanted to leap out of his chest and make it known just how much he loved you, how much joy he found being with you. Something he thought he’d never find again after the loss of his first wife, and the second one leaving him.

Some thriller played in the background, some movie franchise Toji was secretly a big fan of. Half empty beers sitting on the coffee table, one of his hands softly scratching your back, softer than the man had ever been before. You, aimlessly fiddling with his other hand that adorned his shiny wedding ring, one that matched yours, deciding on simple ones that didn’t cost much, but meant a lot.

“Hey Toji?” You muttered out, voice weaker than you intended, his hand on your back instinctively tightened, a simple grunt in response. Your tone of voice worried him, that tone always did, meant you’d ruin the peace with something serious, as he’d always say. But really he was just always worried it’d be something so serious that he’d end up losing you.

When you didn’t continue, he grumbled, ready for you just to spit it out. This type of atmosphere either had 1 of 2 endings to whatever conversation was going to happen, either you were super upset over something really really detrimental or it was something silly you were getting all caught up on. “What is it woman? You’re ruining the movie,” his words were harsh, but you were long past the phase of wondering if he was mad at you over simply the way he normally spoke.

“Well….Did you ever… I don’t know… question why I was so excited that you had kids?” You hummed out softly, your hand that was fiddling with the ring on his finger slowly moving to hold his hand instead. Toji had once in the past let it slip that when he had tried dating before you he often got hurt cause they didn’t want to deal with his already pre-started family. He sighed knowing you were overthinking something, “Mmm, not really, was just grateful,” that was one of the first time you had actually heard him be so openly heartfelt.

“Oh…. Well it’s cause I can’t have my own,” you hummed softly. His expression didn’t change, nothing more than an eyebrow quirking up, “Is that so doll?” He mumbled, already deciding this convo was one of the silly ones, aka option 2. You took his response as him just simply brushing you off, watching his eyes reconnect with the tv screen and his hand that was intertwined with yours, now reaching for his beer bottle, “Those kids, Megumi and Tsumiki, are just as much yours now as they are mine.” Everything he had needed to say was in that one little sentence alone.

Your eyes widened, “Oh Toji,” you muttered softly, holding back tears, “Oh Jesus don’t cry,” he huffed, resuming his hand on your back, rubbing soft soothing circles. Reaching his head down to press a kiss to the top of your head but in his head he was just glad this was one of your silly overthought moments.

Nanami

You told him on your 3rd date. Nanami was a classy man, made you feel really stupid for some of the guys you had dated in the past, so you wanted to treat him right just as he treated you.

On your first date he was stiff, and awkward even, but it was endearing in a way. You both had worked together so there was no reason for him be worried but it was nice to know that someone like Nanami could be nervous. That date was a dinner date.

Your second was a bit more relaxed, a bowling alley, an idea recommended by Gojo an annoying coworker you both shared (and bonded over complaining about). It was nice cause Nanami could get a few drinks in, relax a bit, unbutton the top button of his shirt. Strike some strikes and whatever else you did in bowling. It was nice.

Your third date was a walk through the park, a bit more impromptu but you had decided this one, invited him on it too. It was after an early mission, so you two were done around the afternoon. The sun was warm, flowers blooming, walking side by side down some path. And of course the relationship wasn’t official but Nanami knew from the first time he had saw you he wanted you.

His hand was placed respectfully on your lower back, of course after making sure you were ok with it, and trees lined the pathway you were walking on. He had haphazardly stuck a flower in your hair, one he had picked along your walk.

He was warm, comforting, made you feel like you could be you, so you wanted to be honest. “Kento… are you sure I’m the one you want?” You asked gently, eyes nervously looking up at him as you bit your lip, awaiting his response.

“Of course,” he scoffed, he may be a gentleman but he sure was sassy. “Why wouldn’t I?” He hummed tilting his head down to look at you. “Well… I just think some of are goals don’t align,” you sighed and an eyebrow raise from him was all you needed to know that he was listening.

“Well I…. Look… I can’t… I can’t give you a family,” you muttered looking away, your body becoming rigid against his, “And what do you mean by that?” His voice stern, impending, but not harsh just… curious. “Well… I can’t exactly procreate and it be successful…you get it?” You mumbled under your breath as you picked at the sides of your nails.

Oh, that’s what you meant. He nodded more as a confirmation for his inner thoughts than anything you said, he brought one of his free hands to swat at yours that were picking, “That’s fine,” he shrugged looking back ahead at the path.

“What?” You half yelled definitely hearing some bird flying away from you at the disturbance, “But you.. didn’t you wanna settle down? Have a family? I’ve heard you talk about it,” you grumbled.

He rolled his eyes, “Sure I did, but none of that would mean anything without you,” he hummed, stopping to face you. Tilting your head up by your chin, tired eyes meeting yours, “I want you and you alone. If I can’t have children so be it. You’re enough for me.”

And needless to say it was definitely official after that.

Sukuna

The king of curses was already a very scary man, and honestly talking to him could be quite… difficult to say the least. So you swore off to never tell him. And he didn’t even want the little rascals anyway.

Children were too… annoying for someone who was already so irritating himself, and a little one just like him? Hell would freeze over if that happened.

But he couldn’t deny that you made him ponder. What would it be like? Having one.. or possibly two that were a mix of you both. Or better yet he’d like it more if they were exactly like you. The world would be a better place with only one version of Sukuna Ryomen in it.

Yet he didn’t think of it often. But you knew you had to come clean soon, you could feel the way he glared at your stomach as if trying to stare straight into your uterus. When really he was just trying to figure it if you could even carry a baby from a cursed spirit like him… or if he could get a mere mortal pregnant.

He started trying to, oh so so hard to get you pregnant, every single time burying himself all the way before shooting his load. Yet you never showed any signs. Maybe he was simply incapable. That made him frown.

And that was when you hit a dry spell. He had become so worried that he was shooting blanks or that it was simply impossible to have kids because he was a curse. He was a lot more grouchy, and a lot less touchy. Sukuna already found cuddling and the sorts useless but now? Oh he’d barely look at you now.

He was always easily agitated so you often had found it easier to avoid conflict but he was making it seem like you didn’t even exist. One night you burst into his chambers, a little more attitude in the way you shoved the doors open than you usual.

“Tell me,” you called out standing firmly at the edge of his bed, fuming as your first clenched. His raspy, booming laugh resounding amongst the room. “Tell you what exactly? I owe you nothing,” he hummed remaining in his relaxed position on his lavishly large bed.

“You’ve barely spoken to me or even looked at me in a week? You used to be insatiable what is the problem!” You scrambled out. He clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes, “Tsk, it’s none of your business how I spend my time. If it bothers you then shoo.”

You groaned, you knew him better than that, he wasn’t being truthful. “Sukuna tell me or I will leave this time, I am done playing this game with you.” Narrowing his eyes he took a good long pause before speaking, pointing down to your abdomen, “You show no signs of pregnancy despite multiple times in the bedroom. I’m confused aren’t most women your age fertile?” He jested, quirking a brow.

“Oh,” you muttered straightening up as you sighed. He sensed the noticeable change, “Your soul’s wavering, you know I can feel it, spit it out,” he said, glaring at you, but his look was one more of concern, you could always tell the difference. “Well I uh…”

You walked around to sit on your side of the bed, really he’d never call it that to your face, before you he’d always just sprawled out. Now he made sure to leave that space empty. “Look I…. I can’t have em,” his brow raised, “Have what? You’re being cryptic mortal.”

You groaned, “Kids! I can’t have kids,” that was laughable. Wait you weren’t joking? Sukuna quickly realized that, “What are you deformed?” He teased but it didn’t help the way your eyes got all dewy. He grumbled, he may be practically a demon….. but he did care enough for you to be in his bed next to him.

“So you cannot produce my heir,” and all you could respond with was a shake of your head, confirming. To Sukuna this made him feel a million times better. He wasn’t shooting blanks you simply just weren’t able to be impregnated. He was joyous if not for the tone of the situation.

“Does not matter,” you shot your head over, a confused look on your face. “You wouldn’t have been able to carry my baby anyways, I’m far too powerful for a mortal to carry my heir,” he teased, and while he had his signature smirk you could see the slight tenderness through it.

This may have been one of the only times he seemed to have understood your turmoil. And also the only time for him to have been the first one to initiate physical contact, pulling you into his chest. One hand running protectively over your back, another in your hair, the other two wrapping around you. “Do not fret, calm your soul dear,” his deep voice muttered out soothingly. And that was probably the best you had ever slept.

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bodacious-ass · 2 months ago

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im hoping due to the fact youre a minor you can learn to be better.

Being a terf isnt fun, youre excluding women. The same way white women excluded women of colour, and so many other scenarios where instead of targetting the main problem people use a minority as a scapegoat and a scare tactic.

Women can be anything, i fear it should be common sense that wearing jeans doesnt make you less a woman, not having kids doesnt make you less a woman, having high testosterone which causes pcos/endometriosis and ovarian cysts doesnt make you less a woman.

You are not only supporting an inherently racist group as terfs lean to only support women that fit "western" beauty standards (in turn neglecting women of colour and other cultures) but you support that. Youre a losing battle if you cannot support. All women.

give me a single example of a time I actually exhibited those behaviours.

i've only ever said that woman means adult human female. I never said that not being able to have kids makes you less of a woman. I myself am infertile, but also never want to have children. women can have higher levels of testosterone. I've never said anything against that.

terfs are the only true radical feminists. we don't exclude women who don't fit western beauty standards. I'm middle eastern. I highly doubt that I'm revolving my feminism around western women.

i do support all women.

but I do not, and will never, support men pretending to be women.

#radblr #radical feminism #radfeminism #radical feminists do interact #radical feminist safe #terfsafe #terfblr #radical feminist community #radfemblr #radfemsafe

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no-passaran · 3 months ago

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Daniella Fodera got an unusually early morning call from her research adviser this month: The doctoral student’s fellowship at Columbia University had been suddenly terminated.

Fodera sobbed on phone calls with her parents. Between the fellowship application and scientific review process, she had spent a year of her life securing the funding, which helped pay for her study of the biomechanics of uterine fibroids — tissue growths that can cause severe pain, bleeding and even infertility. Uterine fibroids, an underresearched condition, impact up to 77 percent of women as they age.

“I’m afraid of what it means for women’s health,” Fodera said. “I’m just one puzzle piece in the larger scheme of what is happening. So me alone, canceling my funding will have a small impact — but canceling the funding of many will have a much larger impact. It will stall research that has been stalled for decades already. For me, that’s sad and an injustice.”

[...]

Researchers say threats to federal research funding and President Donald Trump’s promise to eliminate any policy promoting “diversity, equity and inclusion” are threatening a decades-long effort to improve how the nation studies the health of women and queer people, or improve treatments for the medical conditions that affect them. Agency employees have been warned not to approve grants that include words such as “women,” “trans” or “diversity.”

That could mean halting efforts to improve the nation’s understanding of conditions that predominantly affect women, including endometriosis, menopause, infectious diseases contracted in pregnancy and pregnancy-related death. It could also stall research meant to treat conditions such as asthma, heart disease, depression and substance abuse disorders, which have different health implications for women versus men, and also have outsized impacts on LGBTQ+ people and people of color — often underresearched patients. [...]

The United States already lagged in promoting scientific inquiry that considered how sex and gender can influence health — and has a recent history of focusing research on White men. Less than 50 years ago, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) actively discouraged researchers from including women who could become pregnant in clinical trials for new medical products, leaving it often unclear if U.S.-based therapeutics were safe for them. It wasn’t until 1993 that clinical trials were legally required to include women and “individuals from disadvantaged backgrounds.” [...]

The report, requested by Congress, also found that researchers still struggled to understand the implications of common conditions such as endometriosis and uterine fibroids, the long-term implications of pregnancy, or gender gaps in mental health conditions — all areas where Black women in particular experience worse health outcomes or face heightened barriers to appropriate treatment. Investments had stalled in looking at how sex and gender interact with race or class in influencing people’s health outcomes.

#feminism #trans healthcare #trump #women's health #reproductive health #medical research #science #science research #health research #💬

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watcherintheweyr · 1 year ago

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'Rhaenyra is a bad mom bc she knowingly gave birth to bastards and she knew how much danger they'd be in!!!!'

1. She had no way of knowing those babies wouldn't pop out looking exactly like her, beforehand. And unfortunately she couldn't stop at Jace. The throne needed an heir. Driftmark needed an heir. And a spare was needed as well, given the sheer rate of Targaryen children dying untimely deaths.

2. She had to provide heirs to the throne, and to Driftmark. If she hadn't, society wouldn't have blamed Laenor, they would have blamed her- which makes her position even more unstable, bc then she 'can't fulfill a woman's duty' so why would men think her 'able' to fill a 'man's role' by ruling the kingdom? And she and Laenor tried. He was either unable (meaning infertile or impotent, or unable to get it up), or unwilling. (And they did try. We dont know what they tried but Rhaenyra is shown to be clever in the show so honestly i have no doubt she attempted what Margaery suggested with Renly.) Laenor was in on the entire thing. He was aware of every part of this. He wasn't duped, he wasn't cuckholded- it was a plan greenlit by him, bc this way he and Rhaenyra would both have their heirs and a family. This cannot in any way shape or form be compared to Cersei cuckholding Robert (fuck Robert Baratheon tho), seeing as Robert was **not** at all aware that his children weren't his, and wouldn't have been OK with that.

Either way- she chose not to maritally r*pe her husband and put him through more trauma after it was clear their attempts weren't working. Yall are always so upset for Alicent (rightfully so, bc show!alicent was maritally raped, even if it wasn't considered as such in that time), but you... WANT Rhaenyra to do that to Laenor? Hello???

[And no. Rhaenyra did NOT rape or coerce Criston Cole. The actors, writers, and directors have all stated their sex was consensual and 'an act of love.' It was Rhaenyra going to someone she felt close to and trusted after feeling abandoned and unwanted and betrayed. In that scene you literally watch, as after Cole tells Rhaenyra to stop undressing herself, she moves aside so she isn't blocking his way to the door. The director states that the moment they show Cole folding and setting down his cloak was him choosing his desire over his oaths. And Criston Cole has known Rhaenyra since she was 14. He knew damn well the sort of person she was- and she was not the person who would have harmed him for saying no. She was an intoxicated and emotionally vulnerable 19 year old- Criston was in his late 20s to early 30s. And it's explicitly stated in ep.9 that the ONLY person a Kingsguard cannot refuse is the king. In ep.7 Criston disobeys a direct order from Alicent when she wants him to mutilate Lucerys. Criston Cole was not assaulted. Stop trying to assign Aegon's sins to Rhaenyra so that you can feel better for supporting him.]

3. In the books, the rumors of their bastardry at large halted when all of Rhaenyra's boys' cradle eggs hatched. The ONLY people who continued to try and raise issue were the core green faction. But the realm at large *did not give a fuck* why? Because every actually relevant party claimed those boys. Repeatedly and without flinching. Laenor claimed and loved those boys even face to face with Alicent's bullshit. Corlys claimed and love those boys- he was proud of them, and it's been stated by the actor in the show that Luke was his favorite- that given the... events of ep.10, Corlys will be out for blood. And Viserys repeatedly insisted upon their legitimacy- because Laenor and Corlys claimed them, because he knew that by forcing Rhaenyra to marry Laenor in order to repair the damage his insults caused House Velaryon, that he had backed her into a corner.

Rhaenyras boys are remembered to history as Velaryon. Even **Green supporters** noted that they were good, capable, intelligent, and **worthy** princes. That their deaths were unfortunate *for the realm.*

Legally, those boys are legitimate. They cannot be proven illegitimate without Laenor renouncing them, and he never did. Furthermore, trying to declare children illegitimate due to their appearance is a stupid, dangerous precedent. The fact that it's people who have no ties to House Velaryon pushing these rumors and pushing for disinheritance makes it even worse, because they're meddling in the succession of a House that *is not theirs.* if that became a standard, imagine the feuds and conflicts that would erupt- lords pushing for the children of rivals to be declared illegitimate all for the sake of trying to grasp and steal land, power, and influence as a norm? The realm would tear itself apart. Not to mention the sheer danger that would place women in, in Westeros.

Furthermore, even whilst usurping her, even while calling her children bastards, the Greens also imply Laenor's homosexuality was inherited by the Velaryon princes- that they would use Rhaenyra's 'promiscuity' and Laenor's 'predilections' to turn the Red Keep into a brothel- ironic, considering that's more what Aegon would've done. So even while claiming that Rhaenyras children are bastards that shouldn't inherit, they try to state that what the boys inherit or learn from Laenor makes them unfit for the throne. They can't keep their own damn story straight- because their usurpation was never about what is moral, what is right, or the greater good. It was about greed. Power. Sexism.

It doesn't matter what those boys looked like, especially seeing as Rhaenys had dark hair in the books. What matters is that Corlys and Laenor and Viserys claimed them and declared them legitimate, and that they **never** deviated from that.

As for Vaemond, he was a second son. And he waited until Corlys and Viserys were dying and too ill to stop him to make a grasp for power. Youre not supposed to look at that and feel hes in the right. Youre supposed to look at that and see a man consumed by greed, and literally trying to bury Corlys' will and intentions before the man is even in a grave. He was NEVER Corlys' heir- he just wanted power. It wasn't about his House, or their legacy, it was about him.

(And before yall start shit about Rhaenyras boys stealing Laena's girls' inheritance... Rhaena and Baela are *TARGARYEN*. Not Velaryon. Their claim was to the throne or to any holdings in Daemon's name. NOT to Driftmark.)

Rhaenyras boys being betrothed to Rhaena and Baela tied up any issue of 'Velaryon blood.' Baela would have been queen consort of the seven kingdoms at Jace's side, and they very clearly adored one another in book and show. Rhaena would have been Lady of the Tides- which she never would have had a chance for, without Rhaenyra (and Laena) making those betrothals. She and Luke were also canonically very close- and in show she's very encouraging of him whenever he looks nervous or uncertain. They had a bond.

Rhaenyra stole nothing. She gave those girls more. And she loved them- they were the only daughters she got to have, seeing as the Greens treachery caused the early death of baby Visenya. If she hadn't loved them, she wouldn't have trusted Rhaena to look after Joffrey or give her Morning's egg from Syrax. She wouldn't have immediately invited both girls to the table when she was queen, which is something her father did not do for her until much, much later. He allowed Rhaenyra's voice to be silenced too often when she was first made heir. Rhaenyra did not repeat that hurt to her girls or her boys.

Anyways, moving on.

You lot do also remember that Rhaenyra herself has Velaryon blood, right? Jaehaerys I's mother was Alyssa Velaryon. Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya the Conquerors' mother was Valaena Velaryon. It's not immediate, but there *is* Velaryon blood through *all* of Rhaenyras boys.

Ultimately, Rhaenyras boys were only in danger because of the core Green faction usurping the throne. If they hadnt- no succession crisis or rebellion could have truly threatened Rhaenyras boys- because none of them would have had dragons. All of Rhaenyras children loved one another- her sons by Daemon would not have turned on her sons with Laenor (and Harwin). They were a true, loving family- possibly one of the healthiest and most close knit one House Targaryen ever boasted.

And another thing... 'her having babies with Harwin was stupid, she should have picked someone Valyrian!'

Here's the thing. Rhaenyra had to be careful as hell choosing who would father her and Laenor's heirs. She had to choose someone who was physically close, and who could be trusted. Someone who wouldn't try to publicly claim those boys in boast or jealousy. Someone who would keep their mouth shut and had no ambition of their own in regards to the throne. Do you really think Vaemond Velaryon (as I see him suggested a lot) would've kept his mouth shut? That he wouldn't have tried to use this to blackmail Rhaenyra and Laenor for more power and status? Do you think Rhaenys would have ever fought for or supported Rhaenyra if Rhaenyra had tried to have Corlys sire her children? And flying to see Daemon in Pentos and having a purely Valyrian child 9 months later would have made things look even more suspect.

Furthermore... she chose someone who cared for her deeply. Who clearly had a positive relationship with Laenor. She chose someone so she wouldn't have to traumatize herself- she took power over her body in a way almost no Westerosi woman has ever been able to. They were a family unit- Rhaenyra, Laenor, and Harwin. Those children were loved and cherished by two fathers and their mother. They were raised never doubting their mothers love, nor their father's- either father. They were raised and educated to be true, good princes of the realm.

Rhaenyra fought like hell for her children. She was an incredible mother. Yall just believe everything the Green faction says without looking at it critically, and that's unfortunate as hell.

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hidtired · 1 year ago

Text

Unfortunate Timing [Part 1]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

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